


hand in glove

by dragonQuill907



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Hands, Injury, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Newt's on the brink of a mental breakdown but he's like okay you know?, POV Newton Geiszler, Worried Hermann Gottlieb, regular shatterdome stuff I guess, there's really not much to this one folks, tw for blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonQuill907/pseuds/dragonQuill907
Summary: He stared down at his left hand, the white latex glove splitting open, revealing his pale palm (peppered with little scars and callouses from various hobbies and experiments) and deep red blood, slowly welling up in the wound, already spilling over.“Huh,” he said. “That’s weird.”Or: Newt has an accident in the lab, and Hermann patches him up.
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 30
Kudos: 114





	hand in glove

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by my lovely friend Emma!
> 
> Yes the title is from a Smiths song don't judge me about it :/

Newt had never had an injury in a lab before. Even when things exploded, or tried to bite him, or needed to be sharp enough to cut through bone like jelly, Newt had never gotten seriously hurt. Until now.

Though, to be fair, he wasn’t exactly operating on  _ optimal. _

Some numbers to consider: three new Kaiju samples, four black coffees, six arguments with Hermann, twelve Redbulls, twenty-two and a half hours of working tirelessly (tirelessly,  _ tirelessly!  _ Newt was fucking exhausted, but  _ tirelessly _ didn’t matter, not when he could shove it down and forget about it and work work work work–), and only three fucking hours of sleep to get him through it and–

So his scalpel slipped. Big deal.

Although… maybe it was a bad sign that he barely even felt it slice through his skin.

He stared down at his left hand, the white latex glove splitting open, revealing his pale palm (peppered with little scars and callouses from various hobbies and experiments) and deep red blood, slowly welling up in the wound, already spilling over.

“Huh,” he said. “That’s weird.”

“What is it now?” Hermann asked, voice sharp and brittle. He’d been working just about as long as Newt (maybe longer), and as the past few arguments showed, he  _ really _ was not in the mood for Newt’s shit.

“Nothing,” Newt replied. He peeled off the glove as carefully as possible, sucking in a sharp breath as the movement stung his wound. He ground his teeth. “I’m good.”

He waved his hand at Hermann dismissively, but the other man caught sight of the red smearing his palm and gasped.

“Newton! What on Earth–?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing!” Newt cried. “It slipped, I’m fine, I– Uh…”

Hermann was at Newt’s side in a second, cane forgotten at the edge of his desk. Newt held his breath as Hermann took his injured hand in both of his own, touching him with the kind of care people usually reserved for small animals, babies, and lovers.

“Oh, Newton…” Hermann breathed, “what happened?”

“It slipped,” Newt repeated. “I’m okay, I just gotta– Um.” He furrowed his eyebrows as he realized his brain was… totally blank. God, he was tired. “Um.”

Hermann gave him a strange look. “Right,” he said. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and I’ll take you to medical so they can get it sorted.”

_ “Noooo,” _ Newt whined. “Anything but medical, dude, I  _ hate _ medical. It’s not that bad, I don’t need stitches, I– I can take care of it myself if you want!”

Hermann scowled, but he didn’t argue. Newt had it on good authority that Hermann hated medical too. Something about the lights being too loud. Newt hadn’t understood what he meant until he was there with the flu, and the humming buzzing whirring of the fluorescent lights had given him the worst migraine of his life.

Hermann’s hands were still clutching Newt’s, and he leaned heavily on the side of Newt’s exam table, even though there was a sample on it, and he might get neutralized kaiju blue on his fancy grandpa sweater vest. Newt frowned at the thought.

“Newton, are you… well– are you… all right?” Hermann asked. “You’ve never hurt yourself before.”

Newt shrugged. He needed to wash his hand, make sure gross shit didn’t get in there, but he didn’t want Hermann to stop touching him. It was all he’d wanted for… as long as he could remember.

“I’m just– tired, and I gotta– We gotta keep going, man, we almost fucking lost today, and– and I need to figure out what these new appendages are made of, and you’ve gotta reprogram the jaegers and shit, and– uh.”

Gently, like Newt might break if he moved the wrong way, Hermann led him to the sink next to the decontamination shower. Newt watched with heavy eyelids as Hermann turned on the tap and guided his hand under the steady stream of warm water. He hissed as it touched the cut on his hand, but Hermann held him firmly in place. Water splashed on the sleeves of his dress shirt.

“You’re tired,” Hermann was saying, his voice soft. “We both are. We’ve been working too long. Things need to get done, of course. There are problems to solve and discoveries to be made, but there is also the inconvenient little fact that we are, unfortunately, human.”

“Even you?” Newt asked. “That’s rich, man.”

Hermann rolled his eyes. “Even  _ you, _ with your untouchable rock star fantasies. Sometimes we mere mortals will need to eat and sleep and bathe.”

Newt narrowed his eyes at that last one, but when he opened his mouth to complain, Hermann was already leading him towards his desk. Towards  _ Hermann’s _ desk. Across the line and everything!

“Uh, Hermann–”

“There’s a first aid kit in the bottom drawer of my desk,” he explained. “I’ll patch you up here, since you’re so insistent about avoiding medical.”

Newt nodded. “Okay. Well, I know where your desk is, dude,” he said with a laugh, gently squeezing Hermann’s hand.

Hermann dropped it like it was on fire. He blushed high on his sharp cheekbones, and Newt melted a little. Immediately, he missed the warmth of Hermann’s hand.

“Of course,” Hermann said stiffly. “Clear off a space on the desk and sit.”

Just a little ashamed, Newt did as he was told, hopping up on Hermann’s desk without a word. He watched as Hermann pulled a little first aid kit out of his desk drawer. He settled in his chair between Newt's knees. Newt held out his hand, disappointed when Hermann didn’t take it. It felt so nice to have Hermann’s skin on his, to have Hermann touch him so tenderly. It was too nice. Like Newt almost didn’t deserve it.

“You don’t have to take care of me, dude.”

Hermann scoffed. “Of course I do.”

“Not really.”

“Do you remember– two years ago, when I fell off the ladder?”

Newt nodded. “That was different.”

“How?”

“It was my fault.”

Hermann rolled his eyes. “You’re giving yourself entirely too much credit. Just… let me return the favor, will you?”

Newt couldn’t say no to that.

Without laying a hand on him, Hermann poured peroxide over the slice in his skin. Newt hissed at the sting and clenched his fist, bringing his hand protectively to his chest. Peroxide splashed onto the floor, and Hermann frowned at it.

“I’m sorry!” Newt cried. “I’ll– I’ll clean it up–”

“Newton.” Hermann sighed and reached for his hand. He took it gently, unfurling Newt’s fingers one by one. Newt let him, savoring the touch of Hermann’s fingers on his. Hermann squeezed — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to keep Newt’s fingers out of the way. “It’s all right. Let me fix you up, now.”

With more care than Newt had ever had directed towards him in his adult life, Hermann wiped the excess alcohol off his palm. His touch was feather-light, almost unnoticeable. His fingers were fucking freezing cold, and Newt shivered every time he moved, icy fingertips brushing against his skin.

“Does it hurt?”

“No. It’s fine,” Newt said, shaking his head. He meant to stop there, but his sleep-deprived brain kept going. “I like it. This is nice. Feels good.”

Hermann gave him another strange look (questioning, confused, a little… embarrassed?) and let go of his hand. Newt’s heart sank at the loss, but he felt a little better when he realized Hermann was only digging around in the kit again. Newt watched him silently: full bottom lip caught between his teeth; tired, bloodshot eyes; face thin and gaunt at this angle. Newt wondered if Hermann had slept anytime recently.

Finally, Hermann held up a tube of antibiotics.

“We’re almost done,” he said, voice quieter and softer than Newt deserved. “Are you sure you’re all right, Newton?”

Newt cleared his love declaration out of his throat.

“Yes,” he said. His voice was loud, even to his ears, and he winced at the volume. “Are you? You look… tired.”

“I am. So are you.”

Newt nodded.

“I can tell,” Hermann said. With one long finger, he smeared antibiotic over Newt’s palm. His breath caught in his throat, and his lungs refused to work. He'd only ever imagined Hermann touching him this way. “You’ve been working for nearly twenty-four hours, Newton. It’s no wonder you got hurt.”

“It’s fine, there’s shit to do,” Newt said. He tried to ignore the thrill that shot through him at Hermann voicing his concern. Over  _ Newt.  _ “No time to sleep. I bet you haven’t slept either.”

“I took a nap six hours ago,” Hermann replied. Something in his voice was… sad. Disappointed. “You didn’t notice I was gone?”

Newt frowned at himself. “No, I was– I was so focused on the new samples and I– I think I– I think I noticed you weren’t responding, but I thought you were just ignoring me.”

“Trust me, Dr. Geiszler, you are impossible to ignore.”

Newt kept himself busy thinking about what that meant as Hermann wrapped his hand with gauze — once, twice, and with a neat little knot on the back of his hand. Newt looked down on it and hummed in approval.

“Not bad,” he said. “Much better than medical.”

“Thank you. I like to think I’ve had more than enough practice patching up Karla and Bastien as a child.”

Newt couldn't help but smile. “That is so  _ cute,  _ Hermann.”

“It is not. I wanted to be a medical doctor before– er, you know. After that, hospitals always seemed too… personal.”

Newt nodded. “I can imagine. I’m kinda glad you didn’t end up a doctor, though. I wouldn’t be nearly as productive without you nagging me all the time.”

Hermann’s lips parted in exaggerated shock. “It is not nagging!”

“It is!” Newt argued. “But it’s good. I’m glad you’re here.”

Hermann gave him a little smile. Newt felt blessed.

“I quite agree.”

They were quiet for a few moments, thoughts wandering. Hermann hadn’t released his hand. Newt looked him in the eyes and raised his brow, questioning. Hermann only squeezed tighter.

“Please try to take care of yourself, Newton. You’ll run yourself ragged if you’re not careful. And I’d–” Hermann froze, cleared his throat. “I mean. _The_ _PPDC_ would be lost without you.”

Oh. So that’s what that meant.

Using his grip on Hermann’s hand to keep him in place, Newt leaned down and in, stopping just before his nose touched Hermann’s. There came a hitch in Hermann’s breath as Newt let his eyelids fall shut.

Hermann’s voice was strained when he spoke. 

“Newton,” he whispered. “Newton, you’re exhausted. Sit up.”

“No.” Newt noticed that he wasn’t pulling away, so he put his other hand on Hermann’s neck. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I doubt that.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Newt repeated. Hermann’s breath ghosted over his face. “I’m finally gonna kiss you.”

Hermann let out a disbelieving laugh. “Finally?”

“Yeah, dude. I’ve been in love with you for eight years.”

Hermann stiffened at the declaration and pulled back, staring at Newt with wide eyes. Newt’s hand fell away from his neck, but he gripped Hermann’s hand tight enough that he couldn’t go too far. Hermann didn’t seem to mind.

“You haven’t.”

“Uh, yeah,” Newt replied. “I have.”

“That’s– That’s impossible.”

Newt rolled his eyes. “Dear Dr. Geiszler,” he began, “My name is Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. I don’t expect you to recognize my name, as our disciplines are in entirely different areas; however, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to–”

Hermann’s jaw dropped open. “What are you doing?”

“It isn’t often that a scientist manages to fumble their way through a thesis and still leave me impressed, but it seems that you’ve done the impossible. Despite the–”

“Newton. Newton, stop that.”

“–the glaring inconsistencies and oversights in your work, of which there are many, your analysis is overall sound, and your conclusion is–”

“Newton!”

Newt finally stopped, and Hermann swallowed hard.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I dunno, man. You tell me. I’ve had your first letter memorized for almost a decade. You don’t think that means something?” He squeezed Hermann’s hand. “I’m in love with you, Hermann. I always have been.”

Hermann blanched. Newt was sure he was about to be let down gently, but instead Hermann choked out,  _ “Memorized?” _

“All three pages,” Newt said with a smile. When he said it out loud, it sounded pretty fucking pathetic, actually. Huh. Weird. “My therapist told me to pick something to ground myself when I had panic attacks, and I ended up memorizing it all totally on accident. Isn’t that crazy?” 

“But– Why would you pick  _ that _ letter? I was such an insufferable bastard.”

Newt laughed. “Yeah! It was  _ amazing, _ Hermann. I loved it. I love you.”

Finally, Hermann seemed to realize that he hadn’t said it back.

“Oh,” he said, “I love you. Of course I love you, Newton. Of course.”

Newt’s face hurt he was grinning so hard. It felt like the weight of existence had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he’d won the fucking lottery. Like he was the luckiest guy in the world.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asked. He felt like a kid begging for an early birthday gift.

Hermann rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you  _ can.” _

Newt refused to take the bait. Instead, he leaned down and captured Hermann’s lips with his own, using one hand to tilt Hermann’s chin up. Hermann responded enthusiastically, cradling Newt’s face with one large hand. Newt melted into it eagerly, and the kiss shifted from chaste to something fuller, deeper. It wasn’t desperate or dirty — it was just relief. It was like settling into bed after a hot day, wrapping cool sheets around sockless feet and bare legs. Speaking of bed–

“Hermann,” Newt whined as he pulled away, “I’m so  _ tired.” _

“I know, my love,” Hermann replied. He wiped Newt’s face, and Newt suddenly realized tears were rolling down his cheeks. Everything was finally catching up to him. “You’ve been working too hard.”

“I haven’t eaten since Wednesday.”

Hermann frowned at that, his brows knitting together, and Newt wanted to smooth it out with his thumb. Before he got the chance, Hermann rose to his feet.

“Why don’t you head back to your quarters?” he suggested. “I’ll find us something to eat.”

Newt froze. He gripped the edge of Hermann’s sleeve. “Will you stay with me tonight? I feel like I only just got you. I don’t wanna let you go yet.”

Hermann’s face melted into something soft and sweet. His thumb stroked Newt’s cheek rhythmically. Newt’s eyelids threatened to close at any minute.

“Of course, darling. You’ll always have me.”

God, that was so– just so  _ romantic, _ and Newt never thought he would hear  _ Hermann _ say anything like that to  _ him _ of all people, and, and–

“I love you so much,” Newt replied, his voice hoarse. “Hermann, are you a big spoon or a little spoon? Because usually I like to be the little spoon, but if you have a preference–”

“Newton, darling,” Hermann said. “Go get ready for bed.”

When Newt woke up sixteen hours later, Hermann was sitting up next to him, reading glasses perched on his nose, book in his lap, and long fingers carding through Newt’s hair. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment or kudos if you liked it! :)
> 
> Also follow my pacific rim sideblog on tumblr at [kingeiszler!!](https://www.kingeiszler.tumblr.com)


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